It’s a beautiful early Wednesday morning! All the love sessions have come to an end, and now you must return to the not-so-violent reality (because you’re cuddling with Beth); one in which you must keep your promise. You must go on a date with Celia. She even went through the trouble to remind you with a text. Not the best way to wake up, but a way to wake up nonetheless. You must fulfill even if you’re tired! And if! With the legendary Calamity Cola, you’ll be at 100% in a second…
You drink the evil beverage to recover all your stamina.
“Busy again?” Beth woke up as well.
“Yeah, sorry…” You lament.
“Relax, my beloved. I have you covered…” Beth snaps her fingers. “Don’t forget to return to me once again.”
You reappear at the front of the Prisoner’s house with your casual clothes on! Oh, and with a breakfast box. Looks decent. It’s like you were expelled out of Beth’s domain back to the silly real world…
It’s pretty clear that, with the thermostat still broken, it’d be better if you part ways — and do your own thing. The problem is that you weren’t here alone! Maybe you should ask them to bring those lovely people over?
<span class="mu-s">What do you do?</span>
>Ask for Lydie to be thrown your way, please! >Ask for Liu to be thrown your way, please! >Ask for Vera to be thrown your way, please! >Ask for Bagna to be thrown your way, please! She loves being a bag after all! >On second thought, you’ll reunite with them at school. Go there, so you can change to your uniform in the lockers. >Write In.
Grand Zen-Oh, the omni king and ruler of the omniverse has declared there will be a massive tournament to be held in his honor. A grand affair between several universes, each battling it out for the very right to exist. And at the forefront of this grand spectacle will be the Saiyans of Universe 7, who Grand Zen-Oh has grown fond of watching battle. Twenty eight years ago, the Saiyan race were annexed into the PTO as just another race, one of many sent to conquer other worlds. Now, the Saiyans are widely regarded as the strongest warrior race in the entire Seventh Universe, defenders of the PTO led by their strongest, the “Dragon of New Salda” General Karn and his family.
You the players will (most often) control Karn. A man who has grown from his lowly beginnings as a Saiyan Brawler with a sub-3000 powerlevel in Age 733 to become not only the strongest Saiyan of his time at AGE 759, but also personal friend to the former emperor Lord Freeza, father to well over a dozen powerful and unique children, a mentor and teacher to his fellow Saiyans, and the best hope for his universe's continued survival. No one warrior can hope to battle eight other universes' strongest fighters alone and hope to prevail, one man's power and skill won't be enough to overcome the looming threat of extermination. But this coming battle will be the ultimate test of how you've lived your life until now, the choices you made not only for yourself, but for the fate of your entire universe.
Quest rules are as follows(unless otherwise noted): >30 minute vote times >Pick ONLY ONE option when voting >Dice rolls are all best of three correctly-rolled dice >At ten minutes past your previous roll, and there are not yet enough rolls, you may roll an additional roll >Crits are 100 on a d100 >99s or paired rolls may net you extra bonuses >Crit fails are a 1/100 with no passing rolls, or if two 1s are rolled regardless of the third >Write-ins are both allowed and encouraged, but OOC options will be ignored >If your goal is simply to troll, at least put in enough effort to make it funny >Have fun
SCQ will usually start on Saturdays at noon Eastern Standard Time, and run throughout the weekend. Also, for updates or schedule changes you can also find me on twitter @GrandDragonQM, which I keep as up to date with any scheduling changes.
Across the stars there exists a legend walking among the myriad species of the stars, and his name is Zarus.
Zarus is a creature that is known as a human, a species that came from somewhere unknown. In truth, they aren't too much unlike those of the intergalactic community, with meager lives only a fraction as long as yours, of flesh and blood and with hands and feet, spacedust given fleeting form. Only, Zarus himself isn't like other humans - at least, not to your or anyone else in the galaxy's knowledge. Zarus is the most powerful of all psykers in the galaxy. This is <span class="mu-i">by far,</span> no contest. He doesn't perform acts as directly lifting his enemies and sending them flying, no. His reality changing powers are matched only by his warped perspective and inflated ego. Many have tried to kill him, and the world itself bends over backwards to protect him. Bullets sheer by him, laser weapon systems malfunction as they pull the trigger, bombs spontaneously detonate before he enters their blast radius, and other psykers lose their powers as he draws near. Some speculate you could catch him off guard with orbital bombardment or destroying the very planet he stands on, but the empires of the galaxy know he is more precious alive than dead. If it weren't for his self-centered attitude and racial prejudice, he would have had any seat he desired in any empire of his choice, but he prefers the free life of a gun for hire.
If you were to believe the man himself, he was once part of a crew of fifty men sailing through the stars, incidentally struck by debris of an ancient errant missile smashing into a nearby asteroid. The lone survivor, he landed on a fertile planet in the process of colonization and took it as a sign he was still protected by his gods. The planet he refused to name, but rumor has it he calls his home the "mystic city of Agartha." Many have gone to search for it. Some empires are running vast intelligence operations to acquire any information they can about the city. You know better than to actively go and find a planet where there may be hundreds, thousands, millions of humans just as capable as Zarus in the psychic arts. Their elevation to a spacefaring race would upheave the order of the entire galaxy.
So of course, you came across the planet on pure accident.
To most, the idea of being reincarnated into another world was a mere fantasy.
But to you...
It was reality.
Your name is John Doe, and a few months ago you got hit by a truck. After your death you met Herta, the beautiful (and perverted) Goddess of Artifice. She told you that you needed to pick a cheat skill before she could send you to one of the many generic isekai worlds available.
"Because that's heavenly policy!" She'd said.
But instead of picking between those boring options, you took the Goddess Herself and brought her with you to a world of her own creation.
This universe of hers was slapped together with 'tags' and generic fantasy themes. Some might scoff at the abundance of stale tropes and cliched genres, but things were just the way you liked them.
Well, you were still getting used to the unfamiliar logic and morality of this brave new world. Beyond being mere ideas that were held by people, these conceits extended deep into cultural thought, sculpting history and even shaping the laws of physics.
But that wasn't all this universe had in store: Soldiers, airships, mechs, clockwork robots, walking artillery units, all of these and more marched from their homeland's borders to fight in a neverending skirmish against their enemies.
Yet these modern conflicts were petty when compared to the Demon Lord's invasion. So great was that war, that the scars from that era lingered like a thorn on the side. Corruption magic threatened to destroy everything if not purged whenever it was found, despite it being many millennia since the demons were vanquished. This evil magic will grow and fester if no precautions were taken. Thankfully there were many organizations in the world that dealt with these sorts of things.
Today, gold poured from the coffers of nations as everyone clamored to get a slice of the goods and weapons available. In spite of the constant wars and battles, commerce flowed through the planet, giving and taking away fortunes in an instant.
These realities gave testament to some of this universe's priorities - war, trade, and steampunk tech.
And that didn't even mention what is blatantly the most important of this universe's conceits: Slavery. It was a fact of life. Everyone you'd met in this world approved of it and spoke about it like it was the most common thing in the world. Which, in this world's context, made perfect sense.
As Freeborn Men are people, thus women and the lower classes are considered property. Although one could argue that slavery in this world was not the same type of chattel slavery that might pop into your mind whenever someone in your old world mentioned the word 'slave'. Providing evidence to support that theory, the Bondage Accords, which are a sort of international agreement most nations adhered to, granted certain protections to the enslaved despite their legal status as objects.
Your name is Johan. And you have been a taxi driver for as long as you can remember.
Which is about less than a month, give or take. You are not truly certain anymore, as time had begun to behave erratically, quickening and stopping at whim -- the sight of strange shadows worsening these effects.
But that was neither here nor there, though one could argue that it was something that affected you recently.
Two people were standing before you: The first, her skin unnaturally pale from makeup, had an impish spark in her eyes. A mime and a seeker of thrills, <span class="mu-r">just like you were</span> - Mimi. The second was someone whom you could only describe as a jock and a gym rat. Like you, he was <span class="mu-g">beset and obsessed by the mystical</span> - Jeremy.
Yes, you remembered now. You were talking with these two fellows about meeting an <span class="mu-s">old friend</span>. He made an arm spring out of the television recently. You remember that-
<span class="mu-r">You used to love going on nature trails with all your friends. All</span> <span class="mu-s">seven</span> <span class="mu-r">of them.</span>
<span class="mu-g">You recall, when you were young, your parents would take you out to the forest every summer. And you would journey out into the wilderness, looking for something, anything, that remained unexplored.
There was a squalid passage, beyond a gate in decay, that led to a small grotto. You left the town's chaos then and there.</span>
<span class="mu-b">But you never found a path that wasn't tread before.</span>
You frown at the thought. Another wandering memory. One of many. Though this one felt melancholy.
You couldn't say how true or false it was, or how innocuous they were. Last time you'd entertained a memories, death almost took you by the neck. But was it truly the fault of the people here? Perhaps another wandering shadow took the moment for itself, and laid claim upon your life. Or attempted to, at least. Perhaps it was someone else, the evidence was muddled but extant, you felt.
<span class="mu-b">Alas that it might have appeared from the outside perspective that, as you were twisting and turning in your sleep, you'd almost strangled yourself with your blankets.</span> A perfect accident.
But not one you nor your closest companions believed.
You knew of many shadows. You had seen them, shifting and sinewy, attack you and reveal wound an essence deeper than any feeling. Not to mention the physical injury, which was cured overnight for some unexplained reason. Yet you suspected a <span class="mu-g">dream</span> had something to do with it.
But none of the aggressive shadows, which Jeremy claimed to be mara, had made attempts at your life while you were unconscious. They tried to kill you -- that went without saying -- but you felt that none had yet attempted to kill you as you entered another realm as you slept.
Your name is <span class="mu-s">Vincent Cruz.</span> You work in a shady government-backed facility in the middle of the New Mexico desert. By all accounts, you are still a complete and total nobody.
You've spent the last five days struggling to survive in this new world. Your new job now involves studying and researching various anomalous entities in order to make money for the Abnormality Regulation Coalition (also known as ARC).
Somehow you've managed to do a good job over the last five days, despite having no formal experience being a researcher. It's been a struggle to get adjusted to everything but you're shocked at how good of a job you've been doing.
You suppose it's not your first time dealing with anomalous entities. You have vague memories of this chained, bleeding <span class="mu-r">heart</span> that you encountered in the past. You don't know why but you feel like that thing is watching you. You're not sure why it's so interested in you, you're a nobody after all.
Maybe that's part of the reason ARC dragged you off the streets? Who knows. Nothing about your new job makes that much sense.
As for a recap of what happened, you just finished your latest shift. You had to fight for your life against a heavily armed man who wanted you dead. You managed to beat him thanks to sheer dumb luck and in the process, you're earnt the mild respect of some of your coworkers. The rest of the day went over pretty smoothly, all things considered.
You also met two new weirdos, Moxxie and Edward, who might be trustworthy enough to hire in the future. You need as many friends as you can in a place like this. Even if most of the 'friends' you have here are way too weird for your liking.
You owe Colt a favor now after you got him drunk because of an experiment. You need to find a way to get some rifle ammo for his gun. That'll be a headache to deal with but you do owe it to him.
You're now ready to start another day. To face the music, to endure whatever ARC throws your way. All you can really do is to find a way to keep surviving. Day after day, week after week, month after month. This is your new life now, whether you like it or not.
Oh well. You're a <span class="mu-s">wageslave</span>, all you really know at this point is work. You might as well do a good job while you're stuck here, right? There's not really any other path for a husk like you. Haaa.
It’s a dark, almost pitch black night on the campus. Lazari could effortlessly light things up or give herself night vision, but doing so would take away the night out experience. She disliked how so many tried to find ‘solutions’ to things in life that did not need to be fixed. This night was perfectly fine the way it was, although it could use a bit more wind.
She takes off her shoes, letting her feet rest on the fresh grass. Thankfully, most of the lawn recovered from the dragon incident, the last thing she would’ve wanted was to revitalize every bit of grass to make it look uniform again—wouldn’t have been the first time. She stretches
Before she can go on her usual jog, she hears low mumbling from above. She looks up at the school building, until her gaze stops at a bird-like figure resting near the edge of the rooftop. It’s not uncommon for students to hang up there past midnight, but it’s not encouraged for a variety of safety reasons.
Climbing up there would be a piece of cake with magic, but it presents a fun challenge to climb as fast as possible, only relying on her body. One jump, put one foot on a window’s ledge, two jumps, make sure to avoid putting too much strength behind each step, three jumps, grab the edge with your left hand, lift yourself upward and-
There.
Not her best time, but having to climb up silently slowed her down. The student didn’t notice her despite lazari’s imposing figure. She made sure to mask her breathing and mana so that she could slip effortlessly past her in both sight and sound. Lazari taps her shoulder, and the student, who could now be identified as Fet, flinched with a short, high-pitched scream.
There is an awkward silence, followed by unnecessary apologies from the student.
Lazari shrugs, “You can stay here if you want, just don’t go practicing spells at this time of night. I’m glad it’s not some students doing something weird up there again.”
“..Um, ‘again’? How often does that ev- even happen?” Fet’s voice was stuttery, but her voice is less shaky than the last time the two of them spoke.
“You don’t want to know. Nor do you want to know what I mean by ‘weird’. I’ve considered not teaching some spells just because of what I’ve seen people do with ‘em before.” Lazari tries to contain her laughter. “What are you doing at this time, lassie?”
Fet averts her gaze, opting to look at the stars instead. “Thinking about things. I can think more clearly when I’m out- outside, but not when people are around.” Her speech was slower, perhaps as an attempt to control her stuttering.
Your name is (write in), and at only 25 years old you are the best and highest-paid football player in the world. There’s still a long road ahead before you’re widely considered the GOAT, but deep down that’s already your reality — just another fact. With your recent achievement of a fifth ring and another MVP, even the most stubborn critics accept that, at your current pace, your coronation is inevitable. Your idol Tom Brady can only watch as you reach his numbers at lightning speed. He respects you, admires you, and says that in five years there won’t be any serious debate left — you’ll be crowned while still in your prime. Your impact on football is something incredibly rare in the world of sports. Hopefully nothing bad happens to you before that.
…
Taiwman, late February.
You’ve been celebrating the championship for days in a nonstop party. You landed your private jet here, loaded with rich friends and wild girls, so you can all enjoy the new futuristic district filled with robots, super-drugs, and flying cars.
Your best friend is:
>Raptor, a punk pornstar with a split tongue and a very intense palate. She loves vampires and knows everything about dinosaurs. >Fugaku, a professional ping-pong player who also carves swords into bamboo for fun. >Alexey, a blind Russian singer who jokes about how easy life would be if he had telekinetic powers. >Julian, a Mexican running back who loves insects.
You’re invited to the magnetic bullet train — the kind where passengers can’t feel any acceleration — by a cute Chinese girl,
>Zhang, who has a dragon tattoo on her back >Mei Mei, who has a demon tattoo between her breasts >Khadija, who has no tattoos and wears a hijab and in a sudden wave of horniness, you rent the entire train to throw a party with all your tourist friends.
Your phone rings. It’s Tom Brady himself, calling your personal number!
